The Power of the Unlikeable Protagonist

One of the questions that often plagues writers is: Is my protagonist likeable enough?

At some point in our writing career, we’ve no doubt been told that our protagonist should be someone readers want to spend time with–someone they’re happy to commit to hanging out with for 300+ pages; someone they will care about; someone they will want to triumph. And yet, there are plenty of great books out there with protagonists who are not just unlikeable, but actively unpleasant. From Humbert Humbert to Amy Dunne, literature is littered with protagonists we love to hate.

Over the last few weeks, I’ve found myself dwelling on why unlikeable characters can be so engaging. Why? Because I’ve been watching Netflix’s House of Cards.

House of Cards is an American political drama loosely based on a British mini-series of the same name, which was, in turn, based on a book by Michael Dobbs, set in post-Thatcher UK. As Dobbs wrote in 2014: “The US series is different, of course, but not that different than the book that started it all. It’s true to the spirit of the story I wrote so many years ago—a dark tale of greed, corruption and unquenchable ambition.”

The protagonist of House of Cards is one Francis “Frank” Underwood–a ruthless politician who will stop at nothing to achieve power. And when I say “nothing”, I’m not exaggerating. He is, by far, the most unlikeable protagonist I’ve ever watched. And yet I can’t stop watching him.

Some of that is undoubtedly the hope that he will one day get his comeuppance… although I’m not counting on it happening any time soon. But as I watched yet another episode where I found myself wavering between feeling uneasy and nauseated by Underwood’s actions, I asked myself: What is it about Underwood that keep me completely engaged in his story, even as I like him less and less?

It’s not his redeeming features. Apart from one (which I’ll mention below), he doesn’t seem to have any.

It’s not the other characters. There are few, if any, supporting characters who are any more likeable than Underwood–and as soon as I start to get attached to them, they end up dead, incarcerated, or otherwise removed (generally due to the manipulations of Underwood himself).

It’s not the storyline. As much as I enjoy a good (fictional) political drama, the actual politics of House of Cards are often incidental to the personal relationships and Underwood’s machinations.

No, what keeps me watching House of Cards is Underwood himself; despite how much he repels me, I’m drawn back to him again and again. So, what is it about the way he’s written that gives him the dual power of attraction and repulsion? What techniques are being used to keep me engaged with an unlikeable protagonist?

Note: Doubtless Spacey’s excellent portrayal of Underwood plays a part here. A lesser actor wouldn’t be able to pull this character off with so much charisma and authenticity. But for the purposes of this article, I’m be focusing on the way the character is written, rather than how the role is performed.

Clear Motives

“Power is a lot like real estate. It’s all about location, location, location. The closer you are to the source, the higher your property value.” – Frank Underwood, House of Cards, Season 1, Episode 1

There is never any doubt as to Underwood’s motives. No matter how Machiavellian his schemes, there is a clear and established motive behind them–and that motive is revealed to the audience. Now, I may not like Underwood’s motives–they may rattle against my own values and ethics to the point of discomfort–but I understand his actions as an expression of his goals.

Throughout the series, Underwood reveals his motivations to the audience by breaking the fourth wall. (In a book, it would be done with internal monologue, but that’s harder to make work in a visual medium.) These breaks are short, pointed, and irregular. They reveal something about Underwood’s character–specifically about his goals and motivations–that wouldn’t necessarily be obvious from his actions.

The result of this clear communication of motive is that although I may not like Frank Underwood, but I can’t for a moment pretend that I don’t understand him.

Consistency

“That’s how you devour a whale… one bite at a time.” – Frank Underwood, House of Cards, Season 1, Episode 1

Frank Underwood is eminently consistent. He’s consistently manipulative and self-serving, yes, but he’s consistent. There is never a time when he takes an action that doesn’t serve his personality and his goals. This consistency means that even his most outrageous, immoral, and “evil” actions are authentic and believable.

Consistency goes hand-in-hand with the point above. He has clear motives, he acts on them consistently, which makes his motives clearer, and his actions more consistent, and so on and so forth. As each arc of the story plays out, it’s clear how it’s going to end–this builds suspense as we wait to see it happen, so that every twist and turn of the plot is so obvious that we’re surprised we didn’t see it coming.

Even when Underwood takes an action that is completely unforgivable, I find myself accepting it because it’s clearly something that Frank would do. This creates a sense of cognitive dissonance; a push-and-pull sense of dislike and understanding that makes it impossible to look away.

Genuine Relationships

“I love that woman. I love her more than sharks love blood.” – Frank Underwood, House of Cards, Season 1, Episode 1

Frank Underwood lives his life as though every other person is merely a pawn to be used in a game of chess that no one else knows he’s playing. Friends, lovers, colleagues… all are mere playing pieces to be manipulated so he can achieve his goals. He demands loyalty from his underlings, but would destroy them without regret if it would benefit him to do so.

The one exception to this is his relationship with his wife, Claire.

Frank and Claire Underwood have a beautiful relationship based on love, respect, and honesty. They are equals–both in their marriage and in their commitment to their joint goals. From the very first, it’s clear that Claire is the one person Frank will never betray.

Mind you, Claire is no more likeable than her husband. She’s just as ambitious, manipulative, and controlling as him–and even out-maneuvers him when their individual goals clash. But Frank doesn’t seek revenge on her–as he would certainly do if it was anyone else.

Despite everything, when Frank and Claire sit together, sharing a cigarette and their thoughts after a long day, I find myself relaxing and even liking Frank Underwood. After all, if his wife loves him unconditionally, there must be something good about him, right?

Right?

Unlikeability

An unlikeable protagonist works when they have clearly communicated motives and goals, act consistently with those motives, and have at least one genuine relationship with another character. There are plenty of other literary tricks we can use to keep readers engaged, but that’s a good starting place.

Not surprisingly, they’re aspects that are important to all protagonists–likeable or not. Which just goes to show that possibly the hardest thing about writing unlikeable protagonists is treating them just like we’d treat anyone else: with care, compassion, and respect.

Who is your favourite unlikeable protagonist? Do they share these traits? Are there any other ‘tricks of the trade’ you’ve learned about writing unlikeable protagonists?

Wish you could buy this author a cup of joe?

Jo Eberhardt is a writer of speculative fiction, mother to two adorable boys, and lover of words and stories. She lives in rural Queensland, Australia, and spends her non-writing time worrying that the neighbor's cows will one day succeed in sneaking into her yard and eating everything in her veggie garden.

Comments

Scarlet O’Hara comes to mind as an unlikeable protagonist. I read Gone with the Wind in high school and, while I couldn’t imagine having a friend like her, I was riveted by Scarlet’s chutzpah. She glowed in the dark next to mealy-mouth Mellie (the nice one!) I’m also a fan of the original BBC House of Cards. Ian Richardson’s lizard-like portrayal is more understated than Spacy’s, but to me, all the more chilling because of it. These relentlessly focused people fascinate me, and I think we’re all hooked by the prospect of the inevitable train wreck. At least I am! Thanks for reminding us that edgy is good.

Ah, yes, the prospect of the inevitable train wreck. That’s a huge part of it, I’m sure.

If I can find a way to watch it, I’ll definitely check out the BBC version. I love Spacey’s version of the character, but I’m curious to see how Richardson portrays him–especially with your recommendation.

I love this post, Jo. I too watch House of Cards and my husband and I are fascinated with Frank Underwood. In fiction and in real life, we are fascinated by evil powers and high ambitions. I also watch Bloodline (family drama, murder, lies, betrayals, etc.) and this whole family is unlikable and they are getting away with murder. Compelling, but I think you named it in looking for the story to turn so the characters get their “comeuppance.” That’s the draw for me when an evil character keeps winning with his evil power. Don’t we all want good to ultimately win?

Great post, Jo. It cracked me up, actually, because we must think alike. :) I wrote this post for WU about anti-heroes with Frank Underwood as an example about three years ago. LOL! He’s so fabulous as a character study, isn’t he? He’s a likable bastard, or an unlikable leading man. :)

LOL. That’s so funny, Heather. I think we’ve established in the past that we think alike–although now we’ve also established that:

1) When checking to make sure I’m not rehashing subjects that have already been covered beautifully, I don’t go back far enough, and

2) I’m hopelessly behind the times when it comes to watching TV/Netflix shows. :)

One of the things that’s interesting about our posts, actually, is how similar our takeaways are about the character of Frank Underwood. We even put our key points in the same order, although you followed up with a couple of extras. (I’m glad I decided at the last moment to cut my section on male vs female unlikeable protagonists!)

You’re right, Jo, House of Cards is a great study. I find myself thinking about writing and characterization after each binge session (we tend to watch them in batches – usually during spates of bad weather).

I’ve recently discovered that I have a limit when it comes to unlikable protagonists. This year I’ve started two epic fantasy series I was excited about, only to walk away several chapters in. Both cases had interesting characters and were well-written. But the despicable actions and motives of the interesting protagonists left me unwilling to delve deeply into such psyches. I guess I’ve gotten to the point where I consider life to be too short to spend that much precious reading time seeking redeeming qualities for interesting/despicable characters.

And yet, in spite of a long list of despicable characters, I’ve devoured, and plan on continuing to read, one particular famous series – A Song of Ice & Fire, by George RR Martin. And in thinking of the differences between it and those I abandoned, I’m wondering about your point on consistency. Take the Lannisters, for example. They’re rich, elitist, entitled, spoiled, and power-hungry. And yet, it seems like the inconsistencies are what keep me interested in them. Just when you think you’ve got them pegged, they do something damn near endearing. Jaime behaves honorably with Brienne; Tyrion fights (and nearly dies) to save King’s Landing from Stannis’s invasion; and Cersei… well, Cersei repeatedly sacrificed her own personal ambitions for her children, I suppose (though that’s no longer an issue – so look out!). Though I see what you’re saying in the piece, I think to some degree it’s the inconsistencies in these unlikable characters that keeps the pages turning (and the riveted watching of the series, as well).

I have a confession to make: I’ve not read A Song of Ice and Fire. I’ve tried (oh, how I’ve tried), but I just don’t enjoy GRRM’s writing style. Nor have I watched the HBO series. (Can we still be friends? :) ) But I wonder whether it’s truly inconsistency, or simply an unpredictable way of applying consistent motives.

Now, I’m completely happy to be wrong here–as I said, I haven’t read/watched it–but it’s an interesting topic. So bear with me.

When I listed ‘consistency’, I was referring to internal consistency, rather than external predictability. Speaking as someone who has been called unpredictable more times than I can count, I know from personal experience that they’re not the same thing.

An example from House of Cards: (Mild spoilers ahead for those who haven’t watched it.)

Early on, the Underwoods orchestrate a situation to make it appear that they’re under attack. Part of the plot hinges on them making it appear that their bodyguard, Edward Meechum, has failed in his duty to protect them. They sell him out without a second thought. That’s completely consistent with what we expect from them.

Then Meechum makes an impassioned plea to Frank, apologising for his behaviour and begging Frank to help him. Frank brushes him off, which is, again, consistent with our expectations. Then, in an act of apparent inconsistency, he changes his mind and makes a call which saves Meechum’s job and has him put back into active service.

This seems inconsistent, because Underwood is acting in someone else’s interests. It even seems like maybe he feels bad for being responsible for Meechum’s “failure” in the first place. But…. no. It becomes clear later that those actions are completely self-serving–he now has a bodyguard who is loyal to the extreme, and will cross beyond normal morality in service to the man who rescued him (having, of course, no knowledge that his “rescuer” was the same person who betrayed him in the first place). Underwoods act of kindness may have seemed inconsistent on the surface, but it was completely consistent with his internal motivations.

Your examples from ASOIAF make me wonder if maybe it wasn’t the same thing happening. Cersei, in particular, sacrificing her own ambition for her children isn’t necessarily inconsistent with her motives–not if her children are necessary for her ambitions to eventually come to fruition. Plus, of course, they probably fill the role of “genuine relationships”. We like her because we see her loving (and being loved by?) someone else–in this case, her children.

You don’t say as much about Jaime and Tyrion, but I wonder whether those endearing actions are also in keeping with their deeper, internal motivations, and although they appear inconsistent, it’s simply an unpredictable expression of internal consistency.

As I said, happy to be wrong. But consistency doesn’t necessarily mean “doing what is expected”.

Good example from HoC, Jo. I see your point. I’ll have to keep all of this in mind as I forge ahead (if George would ever get the damn book done!). (But at least the HBO series is coming back in a few weeks.) Thanks for forcing me to put on my thinking cap!

Oops, misread your comment about Claire. Mea culpa. But, after watching all five seasons, I tend to like Claire more as a villain than Frank. I like Spacey, but he tends to be too hammy. Whereas with Wright, she plays Claire with more nuance. There are moments when she does come across as someone you *might* find something to like, but then you realize it was all manipulation, and that to me makes her more dangerous than Frank.

I’ve only just finished season 2, but it doesn’t surprise me that Claire becomes more of a villain. I’ve found her more terrifying from the very beginning. I feel like Claire spends more time actively suppressing her “better nature”–that her driving ambition is more learned than innate–and she will go to greater lengths to prove to herself that she’s cold and calculating. She’s also much better at making people feel like she cares about them (possibly because she actually does), and then slipping the knife between their ribs when they’re not looking.

As a side note to that, I keep wondering what the Underwoods would be like if they’d married other people. If Claire had married someone less ambitious and calculating, would she be as ruthless as she is? Or would she simply have been the PTA Mum everyone loved to hate? Without her support, would Frank have gotten anywhere near Washington?

I echo Vaughn’s comment above about the Lannisters, though as I was reading through your criteria, I have to say Cersei Lannister (particular her arc in Season 6 of the show) came to mind. I enjoy unlikable protagonists as much or likeable, and I suppose I’d call them *all* likeable so long as they are relatable. If I’m going to spend time following someone who behaves in a way that is clearly a deviation from the obvious path of “good” then I’m doing so to gain insight. “Why do people behave this way,” and in another sense how can I appreciate how foul is fair for one who would see our fair as foul? What causes people to take twisted paths in life, what is behind the disconnectedness that breaks the seams in the seeming utopia created by the fiction that doesn’t dare to explore the darker places — places which, for me anyway, might be uncomfortable but which are nontheless as much a part of truth?

Thanks for putting House of Cards on my radar. In fact, I’ve decided to start watching it today!

Thanks for your comment, John. I hope you enjoy House of Cards. Maybe “enjoy” isn’t the right word…. I still haven’t decided whether I actually enjoy it, or am simply drawn back to it each evening for exactly the reasons you describe.

I love the way you describe the way you think about characters. “Why do people behave this way?” I’m pretty sure answering that question is exactly the reason I became a writer.

I relate on that! By the way, watched the first episode. FASCINSTING. That opening scene with the dog and the contrast in emotional orientation between Frank and the neighbour — brilliant storytelling, with regard to making a promise to us right away what kind of character we’re going to be exploring. I also think the choice to follow two other characters helps, to build a bigger picture of the overall thematic scope being explored, ie moral ambiguity in a world where getting to the top can bring out the worst in people.

Needless to say, I’m hooked, and thank you so much for giving me a Netflix suggestion to break me out of the historical drama bent I’ve been stuck in (though if you’re on Netfkix, I will highly recommend Roman Empire, The Crown, and The Last Kingdom).

Great post, Jo. Unlikable characters work in comedy, too. I’m thinking of Frank Burns, the whiny, incompetent doctor in the TV series MASH. Despite his faults, he was also vulnerable and insecure, two qualities that made him more than a simply the fly in the ointment for the “good guys.” Like any well-drawn character, unlikable characters are also engaging because they’re more real and easier to relate to than flat stereotypes. They also offer the chance for redemption (e.g., Andy Sipowitz, the alcoholic cop from Hill Street Blues, whom we first meet when he’s shot while “in the act” with a hooker.

Ah, Frank Burns…. I have to say, I grew up watching MASH, and I never found him particularly unlikeable. Annoying, whiny, and treacherous, yes, but I think that insecurity and vulnerability made him completely relateable and likeable in his own way.

Which is exactly the point, I suppose. Even the most unlikeable of protagonists is likeable in their own way.

Sorry to be so late to the party. I think another aspect of the portrayal of Underwood that makes him compelling despite his evil is that he speaks directly to the audience. This is the same device Shakespeare uses for two of his most despicable villains–Iago and Richard III. By some curious magic the fact that the character is lying to everyone but us forges a bond. He is letting us in on the secret no one else (on the level of the story) knows, and that shared position of privilege is entrancing.

I have watched seasons 1 – 4 of House of Cards. But, thus far, I have watched only the first 2 episodes of the new season 5. The first season, I was in the midst of writing my novel, The Sleeping Serpent, about a narcissistic sociopath. So, of course, I was riveted by Frank Underwood. I have researched and studied extensively the characteristics of narcissistic personality disorder and my main character is an afflicted yoga teacher who manipulates and controls his successful, wealthy Hollywood clients in his pursuit of wealth, fame, and celebrity. Sounds a lot like Frank’s motivation, right? You are correct in writing that Frank and Claire have a bond. Mental health experts claim that sociopaths are incapable of love and have no empathy. So, Frank is incapable of real love, but he does have an attachment to Claire that gives him the strength to pursue is mastermind ambitions. Narcissistic personality disordered persons are needy and dependent upon others. This device works, as you say, for the audience to believe there is more humanity in Frank, one that feels and has empathy. Your post is thought provoking. Thank you for this excellent piece.

I love unlikeable characters–my always-favorite is Patricia Highsmith’s chameleon, Tom Ripley. Your parsing of their major characteristics has me thinking, especially about “Clear Motives” and its multiple meanings for all types of characters. Thank you, Jo!

Thanks so much for your take, David. I find it interesting, because I don’t like Frank Underwood at all. Not even a little bit. He makes me skin crawl, actually. I’ve watched 5 seasons of House of Cards now, and I kept going solely in the hopes that Frank would get his comeuppance.

In saying that, I couldn’t watch Breaking Bad or Dexter, because the characters provoked nausea every time they were on the screen. And I was absolutely shocked when my son watched Star Wars and identified with Darth Vader (whom he insisted on calling Anakin).

All of which is interesting because it makes it clear that one person’s unlikable is another person’s likable.